“Happy hatchingday, Venn,” Guff croaked.

“Happy hatchingday yourself,” Venn laughed. They touched snouts briefly in the modern fashion, then wordlessly they walked from the motorcart stop towards their usual place.

It was a dark, quiet little pub close to the city-centre. It used to be five minutes walk from the interchange where Guff came in from the Clanmates’ Association Hall on the western outskirts. Nowadays, it was more like fifteen.

The pub clearly wasn’t designed with the skern in mind. The friends barely fit through the doorway, and the staff, all levin of course, had to line up ten or a dozen cushions from their booths for each of their larger guests to rest their aching legs. There were regulars there who loved them. Venn enjoyed the scowls of the others more.

The landlord sloshed syrup into their jugs with cold efficiency. He would gladly ban all reptiles from his establishment, if such a thing were legal. But when they rounded the corner from the bar, they couldn’t help but stop and grin wide, crooked grins. The tables and chairs had been cleared from the window looking out onto the cityscape. All their pillows and cushions were there, and they had been festooned with ribbons and balloons. Coloured bunting hung happily across the scene.

The barmaid, a pretty young serving-mouse, was waiting for them. “I knew you’d come!” she squealed, clapping her paws in delight. “Happy birthday, sirs! Please, take a seat.”

Venn stood motionless. “It’s hatchingday actually,”he said. “What, you think we come fully formed out of our mothers? With these spikes?” He tipped Guff a wink from behind his monocle.

Guff sighed and shook his head. His friend was in a cheeky mood today. “Don’t mind him, my dear,” he reassured the serving-mouse, who had covered her whiskers with her apron. “When you get to our age, you forget everything. Even your manners.”

Venn stooped to bop the barmaid on her tiny twitching nose. “Pardon me, missy. This is quite lovely. It really is a special place for a special day. Really, two of the oldest citizens, born on exactly the same day! What a coincidence indeed.”

“It must have been a three-quarter moon that day,” Guff added hurriedly. “And a warm wind blowing from the old meadow. The elders used to say that made for a strong and healthy batch, back in the day.”

There were approving murmurs from the other patrons around them. The levin, so short-lived, simply lapped up such fascinating oddities from a bygone age.

They settled down, pride of place. “Ah yes, and what is it that we’re celebrating again?” Venn questioned loudly. “One hundred and fifty seven years, or so they told me. Why, that can’t be right. I feel old enough to remember Master Skrenn and the founding fathers!”

“What’s got into you?” hissed his friend. Everyone was looking at them. Conversations had hushed to a mild patter. It was hard to be careful when you were always centre of attention, but Venn was only making it worse.

Guff’s friend downed his drink in a single undignified slurp. The barmouse always used his largest pitchers, but it wasn’t enough for that old gentleskern. Guff raised a chipped claw and clinked his own across the table. It was rather a bit too sickly for Guff nowadays. Venn downed that one too.

The steely electric glare of the bulb above cast a horrible star of light off Venn’s monocle. Guff could not say for sure if his companion was eyeing him keenly or just staring off absently beyond. His friend was becoming queer of late. Awkwardly, he turned his attention to the window and watched a bus go by beneath the silver skyline instead, packed with tiny, happy souls. It was still the summer holidays. He always enjoyed watching the children play in the warming fire of the sun.

Finally, Venn stirred. “There’s other celebrations out there too. It really is a time of reflection.” So he had been watching him.

“A time of remembrance.”

It took Guff a rather long time to see what he meant. But there they were: the younglings on the opposite pavement. The skern had hauled baskets of heavy, brightly printed fabric upon their backs; a couple of nimble levin labourers were scampering up ladders with corners of the cargo streaming behind them. They were hanging a row of banners from the streetlights. More were in place behind them, towards the interchange. They’d walked right past them without looking up.

Guff lay back against his cushions and let out a long, unsteady snort of stale air. He was lost to the world for a while. Venn smiled and sipped his beverage.

The birthday was just random, an arbitrary record assigned by the city rehabilitation programme. The age was more carefully selected, so there could be no doubt that the two gentle elders had ever been involved in those long restless years after unification.

Levinese medicine was truly a marvel, Guff wondered. They’d used to think their masters so ancient.

This was a big year for the Union, and Venn and Guff with it. This year, they would all be three hundred years old.